Introduction


When we started walking the coast of England we had no intention that this would become a major lifetime project. Having to make a last-minute arrangement for our summer holiday in 1987, we said "Let's go to the nearest piece of coast and see how far we can walk along it." It turned out well and we started adding further stretches of coast, initially once every two years, but soon annually, or even twice a year.

We had always enjoyed the coast - there is something refreshingly "edgy" about having the sea always at our side, and one of us was into marine molluscs. We also enjoyed long-distance walking and had long been involved in general natural history recording. This project enabled us to combine all three interests.

You soon discover when embarking on a project like this that you need a few rules, which evolve from the first experiences. Our main rule was that we should walk as close to the coast as possible, which meant beach-walking whenever we could (unlike the official coast paths that largely remain above shore, recognising that at high tides the beach may be inaccessible). The route should also be capable of being a continuous walk, so that when we came to an unfordable river we walked inland along its banks to the first place at which we could cross, whether a bridge or a ferry.

We only carried light packs, so that at the end of each day's walk we had the problem of getting back to our car where we started. Initially we walked back, but soon realised we would be walking the coast twice this way! We used public transport whenever this was available - buses or trains, sometimes adjusting our start and finish points to make this easier. Failing this - and it was often not possible - we would phone for a taxi (an increasingly costly option over the years). Having our car with us gave us more freedom as to where we could stay at night - and after a day walking and only light food we were usually ready for being spoiled by a good meal and a comfortable bed! Even so, we stayed on the coast itself whenever there was a decent option.

Each walk was made for enjoyment, it was not a route-march to see how quickly we could get it finished. We therefore took it gently at times when passing through pleasant scenery or where there were many plants or creatures to record.

In terms of biological recording, we systematically noted every bird, butterfly, creature or sea-shell that we came across, sometimes spending time searching for the shells. We could not record every plant in the same way - there are too many common ones - so we were more selective, noting all coastal plants and any others that were not run-of-the-mill.

In our daily posts, edited from our original diaries, we include a star-rating from no star to **** according to our subjective estimate as to how special that day was from the point of view of natural history. This score (and our daily records) will, however, have been affected by the weather - it is difficult to appreciate the environment fully, for instance, in torrential rain, and there are many more butterflies and other insects to be seen in warm sunshine!

A summary of all our natural history records on the walk can be found using this link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1LLGD55lKRHYXd1SGU1QndrcUU/edit?usp=sharing





Tuesday, 28 January 2014

Durham: Blackhall Rocks to Seaton Carew 9/7/2006


 

Musk thistles
 
Ringlet
 
Derelict industrial site
 
“Blackhall” is supposed to refer to the dark sea-caves characterising this stretch of coast.  After parking at Blackhall Rocks we walked briefly along the cliffs, with a good flora like yesterday, and then down to the beach, which was shingle above rocks, much of the shingle actually being cinders and other man-made stones.  Another friendly local man we met here said that some of these cinders, with red minerals in them, would explode if put on a fire, so one has to be careful collecting sea-coal, much of which was to be had here.  His two grandchildren were searching rock-pools for crabs.  The shingle was slow to walk on, so we retired up the next flight of steps to the cliff top and walked through the caravan park at Crimdon and down to Crimdon Brook at sea-level again, where there was a fenced-off section on the beach to protect nesting little terns.  Although they were well-camouflaged we managed to spot several on nests through our binoculars, especially when their mates came in with fish for the young.  We ascended a former dune now occupied by a golf course and walked through this to the side of a railway track passing by a former industrial site now in an advanced stage of decay.  This was strangely followed by an old cemetery, Spion Kop, where the gravestones and monuments were surrounded by tall grass and flowers, preserved now as a nature reserve, with musk thistles and many ringlets.  We then returned to the sandy beach and walked below the next industrial ruin.  On arriving at the Headland district of Hartlepool (originally Hertepol) we came up a concrete ramp and walked along the sea’s edge by means of the usual bare concrete “esplanade” with walls and rails until we reached a green at the east end.  We walked along the southside streets of the Headland, still overlooking the sea, until we reached the harbour and happened on the Harbour of Refuge pub with good views over the water and serving traditional Sunday roast (chicken, pork or beef) with 5 vegetables, potato and Yorkshire pudding for £3-95!  We followed this with apple crumble or roly-poly sponge with custard for £1-50 each.  This place was popular with locals who regularly booked tables for Sunday lunch here, so we were lucky to get in.  Out of the window we could see a kestrel and herring gulls exploiting the updrafts and the high wind to hover above a boarded-up chapel, while feral pigeons scavenged the grass beneath.  There were at least three churches and several chapels in this one tiny district, although some were now obviously disused, as were many commercial properties.  We had to resume our walk round the harbour, and the port facilities behind it, by road past more poor housing and derelict buildings, a long detour from the coast until we reached the new marina.  This one was less interesting than others we had seen, mainly an excuse for a new shopping centre and lots of car parks.  There was little for the pedestrian here and we carried on via a cycleway leading along another “esplanade” above Hartlepool’s east beach.  The tide was in, so we had to remain on this boring walkway all the way to the village of Seaton Carew, now close to being a suburb of Hartlepool, popular as a seaside resort with residents of the city and full of amusement arcades and fish and chip shops.
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